


we rolled up the carpet so we could dance

by silenceinmolasses



Category: Block B
Genre: Feel-good, Fluff, Food, Foot Jobs, Foot Massage, French Kissing, Friendship/Love, Hand Jobs, Kinda, Kissing, Lapdance, M/M, Mild Smut, OTP Feels, Resolved Sexual Tension, Some Humor, The Author Regrets Nothing, it was supposed to be way shorter, pining?, rapping, zikyung are darlings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceinmolasses/pseuds/silenceinmolasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyung brings his love to Zico who’s working hard in the studio. It is received well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we rolled up the carpet so we could dance

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Richard Siken’s brilliant _Scheherazade_ .
> 
> This fic is very much inspired by the legendary Zikyung's kiss in _SNL Korea_. They have my utmost respect for treating fanfic writers with respect, bless. Also, I watched their sseom sessions before writing so yeah.
> 
> Blame the amazing SPEED and their _Hey Ma Lady_ live performance for the random lapdancing:  
> [On Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzzGVuLqMxg)
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this. Have fun while reading *kiss*

Zico’s locked up in the studio. Zico’s locked up in the studio again. He’s probably keeping himself full only on apple slices and the sweat of his fingers when he rubs his thumb along his lower lip, not satisfied about the track he works on at that time.

Their comeback is close; so close all of them are on edge. The stress is visible in the lilac shadows under U-kwon’s eyes, though they seem to disappear when B-bomb traces them with fingers, followed by his curious lips. U-kwon blooms under him; he probably tastes like honey too. They are often seen holding hands, their sides pressed against each other’s, U-kwon looking at B-bomb openly like he’s standing in an open field, a piece of glass drinking up the sun.

Them holding hands so openly and feeding each other biscuits that no one else eats calms all of them down. Or it would if Zico leave the studio for more than three minutes he uses to piss and clap on the shoulder of whoever’s nearby. Kyung himself was the lucky one last night: he stumbled upon Zico in the bathroom as the latter was brushing his teeth, toothpaste and saliva dripping down his lips. His hair was messy and in the liquid light they looked like spun gold. Kyung stood in the doorway, watching him. He drank some mineral water just a moment ago but his throat ran dry, stuffed with warm cotton.

Zico winked at him while leaving the bathroom. He didn’t stop to chat or anything, just went back to the studio, leaving a burning creamy trail where his fingers traced Kyung’s naked shoulder and a smell of mint as the latter leant way too close.

This whole morning Kyung spends at the breakfast table, his fork occasionally clinging to the half full glass of juice as he played with his food. Even after the majority of them finished eating and the warm tickling scent of pancakes was on the brink of disappearing, he is still there, drawing in the leftover jam on his plate and looking at the spectacle that is B-bomb and U-kwon.

Kyung takes comfort in their intertwined fingers and smiles. He is invited in their relationship just like the rest of the band; Block B would not be the same without U-kwon and B-bomb’s love. It seems natural: the romance is what they all breathe whenever times are hard and it smells sweet. An acute mint is U-kwon’s shoulders as he tenses for a second and the melts under their hands when washing the dishes. Sticky caramel is B-bomb’s wink when someone smacks his ass telling him to get out of the way. The pair kissing each other goodnight in the murky light of the TV makes them all feel drunk on strawberry juice.

It makes Kyung’s skin crawl when he doesn’t feel Zico pressed by his side on the couch at those moments. He can admit to whoever asks (no one ever does, really) that he misses Zico during his solo promotions. He can shout from the rooftops that _Block B leader_ is also his best friend so Kyung misses Jiho like mad. That he does; he also sends captioned selfies to him with his lips puckered and the T-shirt too tight. Zico returns the gesture with pictures where he wears perfect eyeliner and the tip of his tongue is frozen swiping along his a shade too bright lips. Kyung sometimes uploads those pictures on his _SNS_ , names them _BTS_ or _everybody, support Ziaco~_ and replies to the fans' comments with a friendly snark.

When Zico filmed _Celebrity Bromance_ Kyung didn’t change this communication pattern per se. Maybe he spent longer into the night playing cards with Jaehyo and B-bomb as Taeil fooled around with a guitar nearby. Maybe he cut the onions for the soup a bit too angrily when it was his turn to make dinner together with P.O.

Maybe his texts were unusual. Kyung knows he can never say too much with Zico so when he sent a kissy face and a heart (no, this is not strange) and in the middle of a night received a selfie of him sleepy, his hair still wet from shower and a plushy of himself the band got him as a joke on his shoulder, his first reaction was to send back a picture of his dick. Just to remind how it looks like as the last time they showered together had been months ago.

Nights have always made him feel itchy. Kyung tried sleeping with B-bomb and U-kwon but it all ended with the former accidentally kicking him in the balls. His yelp woke P.O. up and they had a sleepover with old marshmallows and shitty U-kwon’s movie collection. When he tried it again last night, B-bomb right before turning of the light turned his head to Kyung, leaning closer (the muscle in his forearm jumping), said nonchalantly, naturally _we can do something if you want_. U-kwon flashed him a smile shyly, his chin fitting on B-bomb’s shoulder like a sugar rose on a cake. Kyung huffed and pulled a blanket over his head. At night his mouth nonetheless sought someone else’s; pressed drily against soft lips, found soapy smelling skin, his nose following a path lower to a T-shirt’s neckline. Kyung had trouble sleeping later even while listening to matching breathing which sounded like glass beads falling on something soft; he thought maybe he should cause a loud enough ruckus so that Zico would have to bring him to his own room. Maybe he would tie him up for some peace and quiet.

Kyung finally stands up from the table and puts the plate in the sink near the other dirty dishes. Taeil’s cup still has some honey on the bottom; Kyung sticks a finger in and licks it off. It’s almost tasteless now, it coats his tongue in sweet water and Kyung’s at his breaking point.  
Ziaco’s still in the studio.

Kyung thinks for a bit and takes out a recently bought pack of salmon out of the fridge. Its smell is fresh and heavy. He cuts out a few pieces and brings them to the table for a taste.

“It’s nice,” U-kwon’s smile is nothing but encouraging and knowing, infuriatingly so.

“Gonna feed our Zico,” Kyung shrugs as if he does not constantly bring him snacks; as if the food Zico eats while working is not only from his hands. Last night it was a bowl of fruits; Kyung scattered some nuts too and their knuckles kissed briefly when Zico took it.

Kyung looks at his hands as he spreads butter on the bread. He is pulsating with want, feeling too thin and too big at the same time.

“Send him our love,” B-bomb waves as Kyung takes the plate with finished sandwiches, his finger sticky with lemon juice.

“Your love too,” U-kwon adds, his words muffled slightly by B-bomb’s hair. A giggle escapes through Kyung’s mouth as he sends them a kiss and leaves the kitchen.

The studio is at the very end of the corridor, a maybe a bit too small room to contain the passionate talent that is Woo Jiho. The hardworking and curious soul, the dedicated and loyal Zico.

The room is too small to contain the passion Kyung has for him.

He opens the door to an unexpected light. The blinds are slightly raised up, making the accidental rays crisscross on the wall furthest from the door. Dust flies lazily in the air, setting on abandoned binders and empty CD racks. Zico has his legs put up on the desk, he rakes his nails through his hair while mouthing the words he reads from a sheet ripped out of a notebook. His dark T-shirt is faded, drooping slightly off his shoulder exposing the pale skin of his neck. He is the picture of concentration Kyung knows so well like he painted it himself with fingertips smudged in late spring sun.

Zico beams to the sound of closing doors. His hair is messy and eyes bloodshot like he spent a whole night staring at himself in the mirror.

“Come, sit next to me,” he wiggles his toes to the direction of another empty chair. Kyung puts the plate on the table and brings the chair closer.

“Minhyukie and Youkwonie send their love,” he watches how Zico’s teeth sink into a sandwich as the latter flashes a thumb and swallows greedily. Kyung takes his foot off the desk and presses his thumbs into the soles. Zico convulses while hiding his laughter and coughs.

“Send them my love too,” his voice is cheery, though a bit tired. He stretches languidly, his legs spreading and his hand going down to scratch his lower belly. Kyung tickles along his foot and Zico yelps, entirely sliding down the chair. He falls with a humph, still smiling. Kyung squeezes his foot, gently scraping with his nails. They stay silent for a while, both content: Kyung softly massages the fatigue out of his dear friend and leader as Zico finishes the sandwiches chewing enthusiastically.

Kyung wraps his hand around the strong calf, presses his fingers in the spaces between Zico’s toes, strokes along the heel. If his hands stop, Zico would impatiently tap him on his thigh, sometimes accidentally ghosting over his crotch.

Kyung is aware he’s hard. The warmth makes him bite his lips and his blood quicken; Zico looks at him through lowered eyelashes, seductive almost.

“Say, Kyungie,” he drawls out.

“Yeah,” he answers, tapping his fingers on Zico’s ankle.

“You think fans would like if for our next comeback we gave each other lap dances?” Zico leers excitedly.

“I don’t know. This is something we should ask them,” Kyung shrugs nonchalantly. His eyes close as his heart for a moment felt like it is made of jelly for Zico to swallow easily.

“No, but listen, I have a perfect song for that,” he crosses his hands across his chest, “and I have a perfect idea for choreography. There’s an empty stage, right? There are couple of chairs, well, we can talk about it later, but the main point is that in the first verse you will be sitting on one of them and I will be rapping and the camera will film my back as I lean on your shoulders like this,” he stand up, his foot ripped out of Kyung’s hands, but then his arms are around his neck as Kyung gladly accepts Zico’s weight on his thighs as the leader straddles him.

“Not too heavy?” Zico’s breath hits his ear and Kyung smooths his hand down his back.

“No, all good.”

“Okay, so we need a heavy beat, like _Wanna Be_ or similar and I hump you a bit,” Zico rolls his hips with a flourish, sending a kiss to an imaginary camera behind him, then he slides down, Kyung’s knees still in between his legs, and pulls his hair softly. Then stronger, not enough to make Kyung wince but it stung nonetheless. Kyung nods and Zico does it again, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and spitting out the lyrics to the music in his head:

“Let me look at you closely,/ here you are/ what a tease,/proudly catching my eye/ want me to take a piece.”

Kyung bops his head a few times, then spreads his legs, making Zico sit in his lap.

“Look at me all you want,/ touch me too,/as long as you are on my leash,/I will let you drive me cuckoo,” he rushes a bit too much a few times but Zico’s glee is still perfectly palpable. He twists in his arms, bringing both of his legs to one side before leaning down and biting softly on his cheek.

“Gonna let me make you feel so good?/ gonna kiss you all over, that I would,” Zico burrows his face into Kyung’s neck, giggling sloppily, “gonna drop my clothes at a word,/in a second you will have me spurred,” he keeps going even when Kyung starts kissing him: first what is closest to him, his hair and temples. Short strands tickle his lips and the skin smells faintly of sweat. Kyung travels down to his eyelashes, his nose and then finally his lips. Zico still continues, though smiling so widely impairs his enunciation.

Jiho never does anything half-assed. If he is working, then he will fully emerge himself in writing. If he gives a lap dance to his best friend, he will make sure all of his movements are precise and exciting just enough. If the said fiend is kissing him, he kisses with just as much love.

Zico’s lips taste salty from the fish. He is a relaxed and warm mass on Kyung’s knees, still trying to rap the lyrics which get more and more explicit; his mouth is slack and familiar. Zico is still rapping when Kyung tries to carefully run his tongue along those plush lips but then he is inside of Zico’s mouth.

He freezes for a second. This is not what he was trying to do. He wants this, sure, it’s wet and snug, lovely too, the tip of Zico’s tongue stroking his own. He exhales a bit too loudly, it’s almost a moan, and tightens his arms around Zico’s waist. In a moment he lifts up the T-shirt, putting his hands all over his beautiful friend’s belly and chest, brushing over a nipple.

Zico’s hard too. Kyung rubs his bulge through the trousers, slowly, intentionally.

“Miss you lots,” he whispers against Zico’s lips fervently. 

“Me too,” he answers, his breath slightly catching. His hips quiver, nails digging almost painfully in Kyung’s shoulders as the latter slips his hand in Zico’s boxers, jerking his dick in an almost lazy fashion. Kyung saviors this moment like deluxe chocolate which leaves his mouth sweet and his heart bursting from joy. Their tongues meet again, lips brushing, unhurriedly as if they both taste of ice cream. Kyung nibbles on Zico’s lower lip, making him shudder, his cock wet, slicking the grip. Kyung does it again and again, bruising Zico’s mouth with love, enjoying him trembling in his arms, enjoying the knowledge he has about how to make him shiver all slick and messy.

“Good?” Kyung asks just to hear Zico’s breathless yes and see his feverish eyes look at him all open and blooming. Zico isn’t particularly loud but his voice falls apart nonetheless; when he speaks, his words whine at the end. His hair is plastered all over his forehead, shiny with sweat and unexpectedly Zico comes, laughing in his pleasure. Kyung thumbs the head of his dick some more, kissing him chastely on his cheek.

The sun beams on the wall look like a waterfall. Kyung realizes his thighs feel a bit stiff and his dick strains against the zipper.

“That… was quick,” he observes, blindly on his right grasping for tissues.

“I haven’t been masturbating for a while,” Zico shrugs contently, fingers idly playing with Kyung’s curls. He glances down and in a moment stands only to lie down and Kyung finds a foot in his lap again. Before he can take it, Zico moves closer and his toes press against his crotch. Kyung hisses involuntarily, spreading his legs, groping the desk for purchase. Zico simply lies there, allowing his best friend take big greedy gulps of him: legs spread, T-shirt rucked up to show a strip of skin to Kyung and a maddening pressure of his gorgeous foot on his dick.

“Can you feel anything? Unzip you jeans,” Zico’s brows are creased and all he lacks are earphones and a laptop. Such concentration and all for Kyung. It never ceases to amaze him, “I have never done this before,” he continues conversationally, crossing his arms behind his head. His foot finds naked skin as Kyung takes his cock out and in soothing sure motions grinds on it.

“I hope so. You haven’t told me,” Kyung groans, head falling back. He doesn’t really think what he’s saying, pleasure is wrecking his body. Lately he could only beat his meat to the memory of Zico’s smirking lips, of biting his Adams’s apple and receiving a giggle in return.

Zico barks out a laugh to his remark.

“Yeah, can’t have that,” he lifts his ass up just to grind his heel in Kyung’s balls. It borders on painful and Kyung exhales sharply and helplessly, rutting against the foot. Zico begins to hum the Lap Dance song.

Kyung comes after a few minutes of barely managing to contain his desire for Jiho; he moans shamelessly, spilling all over Zico’s foot. The latter chuckles.

“That was quite fast too,” Zico slides his foot down his thighs languidly.

“It’s because you look really sexy down there,” Kyung winks and catches his foot before it leaves his lap. He cleans it carefully with a napkin, noting the chipped nail polish on a few toes. He lifts the foot to his mouth for a short peck, making Zico almost kick him in the chin due to a bright burst of laughter.

“Come down there,” Zico motions him with a finger.

“Already did,” Kyung stumbles upon his own feet and falls down partially on Zico who immediately wraps his arms around his waist and makes kissy faces. Kyung shows his tongue only to be met with Zico’s lips uncoordinatedly trying to suck on it.

“Oh geez,” he lovingly murmurs and looks up at the ceiling. It seems to be caught in a web of light, the sunbeams falling diagonally in needle-thin lines.

“U-kwon told me to send my love,” Kyung says conversationally, feeling more sated than he did in months. 

“Tell him it was received well,” Zico answers him cheerfully, a hand finding his and squeezing strongly.

Kyung can’t wait for the comeback now. The next one too.


End file.
